Learning Curve
by rebelrsr
Chapter Eight
[reviews]
Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and lots of people in expensive suits. I'm not making any money here, just trying to create a happier Buffyverse for my favorite characters.
Spoilers, etc.: I altered the timeline of "The Yoko Factor," "Primeval," and AtS "Sanctuary" with reckless abandon. It's mostly AU from here.
A/N: Character thoughts are enclosed by **. Flashbacks are enclosed by //. Thanks to Desirata41 for the beta and encouragement! Thanks to Zigpal and Zenithar for the continuing support and suggestions. I couldn't do it without you.
Archiving: By permission only.
Willow watched Tara walk from the room in disbelief. Only after the doors closed behind the older witch did the reality of the situation hit her. Eyes filling with tears, the redhead turned to the only remaining Scooby. "Giles?" She sounded dazed. "What did I just do?"
There was little sympathy in the ex-Watcher's gaze as he replied, "I would think that was obvious, Willow. Now, perhaps I should return to my apartment. I believe your computer is there." He, too, moved to abandon her. "You'll need it if we are to discover what's on the disks. I would appreciate a call if there is any change with Buffy whilst I'm gone."
His statement lashed at Willow. "Sure. Sure, Giles. I'll call." She looked away, afraid to see the condemnation in his eyes. Huddling onto a chair, the witch stared at one of the candle flames along the wall and tried to figure out just where things had gone so terribly wrong. The passing of time faded in the orange glow that filled her consciousness. Answers eluded her, but the meditation brought a measure of calm. Unwinding from her cramped position in the small chair, Willow stretched before wandering out to check on Buffy.
The hallway was deserted. Panic tried to overwhelm the remnants of peacefulness until Joyce came into view, talking with the doctor. Breathing a sigh of relief, Willow walked over and hovered a few feet from the pair. Although she couldn't hear their low-voiced conversation, she decided it must be good news from the way Mrs. Summers smiled. After a few minutes, Joyce noticed Willow standing motionless in the hallway and reached out a beckoning hand. The younger woman hesitantly joined her and was immediately wrapped in a tight hug.
"She's awake, Willow." Joyce's voice was choked with emotion.
At the pronouncement, Willow leaned into the embrace, sobbing. Dimly, she could hear Buffy's mother's whispered words of comfort and burrowed into the arms around her. Finally, though, the emotion ran out, leaving the redhead drained. Sniffling, she wearily straightened and pulled from Joyce's hug.
Joyce allowed her to move away, but kept a firm grip on Willow's hand. "Is everyone still in the chapel?"
"No." Her voice was strained by more than just the earlier tears. "Giles went back to his place to get my laptop."
Even though the young redhead wasn't her daughter by birth, she had spent enough time in the Summer's house for Joyce to recognize the avoidance in Willow's answer. Cupping the girl's chin, the surrogate mother looked for the rest of the information. "What about Xander and Tara?" she questioned.
Blushing brilliant crimson, Willow stuttered, "Well, um, after you left to check on Buffy, Tara..." A quick glance up showed Joyce giving her a 'you're going to tell me eventually' look and she caved. Dropping her eyes, she launched into explanation. "Tara said that we needed to go get Faith, but no one agreed with her. She got kinda upset and then Xander found out that Faith had been to see us and she told us that Buffy was depressed, maybe even suicidal." When Joyce stiffened, Willow started talking even faster. "A-and then Xander stormed out 'cause he said we'd forgotten he was our friend, and I said some things to Tara and Giles that weren't very nice and they both left, too." By the time she finished speaking, the redhead's words were jumbled, tears and sobs making clarity a problem.
Joyce pulled the weeping girl back into her arms. More than anything, she wanted to ask Willow about what Faith had said, but she knew the teen wasn't ready for an inquisition. "OK, it's OK, Willow." She stroked the rumpled red hair buried against her chest. "Buffy's been asking for you. Pull yourself together and go see her. I'll give Rupert a call." The shuddering form in her arms froze for a moment before slowly pulling away. It took all of Joyce's self control to swallow her laughter. Willow's eyes were red and swollen, tear tracks visible amidst her freckles. A red nose and hiccupping breathes completed the abject picture. As she turned to find a phone, Joyce couldn't resist commenting, "You might want to freshen up before visiting."
It took a moment to get her bearings after the second crying jag. Dazedly looking around the hallway, Willow finally woke up enough to lurch toward the restrooms. A glance in the mirror told the witch why Joyce had suggested the pit stop. Cold water helped with the remaining tear stains but did little to lessen the puffy eyes. Shrugging, she gave up trying to hide her grief and went in search of her best friend.
***
The shock of seeing Angel sent Faith over the edge. Writhing in his grip, the Slayer loosed a primal scream and threw herself at the souled vampire. She managed to slip from his grasp with the move. She beat at him mindlessly, screaming, tears mixing with the rain on her face. Fatigue finally forced her to stop, and she simply hung in his grasp, pleading, "Please, help me." The tough-girl façade shattered. Eyes dark with understanding, Angel picked up the hysterical Slayer and started for home.
By the time they reached his apartment, Faith had pulled herself together. The tears and sobs faded, leaving her disconnected and empty. She could feel Angel looking at her, trying to evaluate her state of mind. But the Slayer couldn't seem to care; maybe that's why she allowed the vampire to lead her out of the freight elevator and into the small subterranean apartment Angel used. As soon as he stopped pushing her, though, Faith stopped moving.
Two hundred and forty years of living gave him some insight, and Angel merely commented, "I'll just put your stuff here," and dropped her jacket onto a chair. Turning, he reached out, but stopped short of touching the frozen teen. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll be close by."
Faith wanted to respond but was afraid there would be no words, just more screaming. So she nodded, and curled up in the bed, comforter held in clenched fists beneath her chin. It was warm, peaceful. Watching Angel putter around the room, she needed to let him know his kindness was appreciated. "Angel?" Her voice felt broken from the earlier emotional storm.
"Yeah?" The tall demon turned immediately.
"Thanks." The smile that greeted her hesitant response was unexpected. "I don't know..." The words trailed off as the Slayer dropped into sleep.
***
Stretching brought only the faintest protest from her ribs, and Faith smiled before snuggling into the pillow. *Good. Slayer healing's finally kicking in.* Inhaling deeply, she tried to get back to sleep but the scent from the pillow had her Slayer senses on alert. Sitting up, Faith quickly took in the dim light from the lamp on the nightstand. *Where the hell...Angel's* her mind sluggishly provided.
Now that she was more or less upright, the need for sleep faded. Standing, Faith took stock of her surroundings. There were no windows in the room. The table lamp provided the only source of light. She opened a door to her left — bathroom. A set of double doors led to a living room and small kitchenette. The refrigerator was stocked with pints of blood, and — she was relieved to see — normal food. Although her stomach rumbled, the Slayer decided a shower was her first priority.
It appeared as though Angel had anticipated her need to clean up. Fresh towels and shower supplies adorned the vanity. A pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt rested on a wicker hamper. Picking up the clothes, Faith sniffed and then smirked. *Wonder what Queen C thought of loaning me her stuff.* Quickly stripping off her grimy leather pants and top, she stepped into the shower. She luxuriated under the steady stream of hot water until it began to cool. Energetically toweling her hair, she walked to the fogged over mirror and cleared a spot with one hand. The physical signs of her last fight with Buffy had nearly disappeared. Looking deep into the eyes of her reflection, Faith wondered what she would find. The image didn't show her anything new, but scenes and voices from the past bombarded the Slayer.
//Buffy's voice, strident with disbelief and a touch of fear, "You killed a man!"//
//Her own voice, devoid of emotion, "I don't care."//
The argument had ended there, the day after she had killed Allan Finch. But those three words echoed in her head. Breaking away from the eyes in the mirror, Faith dressed and fled the bathroom. She couldn't stay here. Angel was too close to her past; being here, with him, would bring it all back. She jogged into the kitchen, focused on grabbing a meal before finding the exit. Faith piled sandwich fixings onto the counter and yanked a large knife from a rack for the roast.
"Glad to see you're finally awake."
The Slayer started at Angel's voice, spinning to face him with the knife raised.
Hands extended from his sides in a show of peace, he calmly continued. "Faith, I want to help. But there are a few things you have to do." The vampire paused, waiting to see her reaction. She remained crouched, knife ready. "First, I need you to give me that knife."
Faith stared hard at the demon standing in front of her and then at the blade in her hand. Straightening from her crouch, she approached Angel. Although he held his hands steady, she could see his body bracing for action. The Slayer moved to within a few feet and slowly extended the knife, hilt first. Angel took the knife and relaxed a bit.
"You're looking better," he said. He walked around her and took a pint of blood from the fridge. Losing his human features, the vampire bit into the bag, draining it quickly.
//"Faith, no!" She heard Buffy's voice just as the stake entered the vampire's chest. Oddly, there was no dust, just warm, sticky liquid staining her hands. A closer look revealed her hands were covered in blood.//
"Faith?"
It took a minute for the Slayer to realize she wasn't in that alley, with Allan Finch's blood soaking her hands. "Yeah, what?" She snapped.
Angel discarded the bag. "Sure you're OK? You went kind of pale." He shifted again, hiding his fangs. "Maybe I should have asked if you were alright with me eating."
"Whatever, Big Guy." Faith went back to the food on the counter. She wasn't really hungry anymore, but wasn't sure when she'd have the chance to eat next. "I was just making a sandwich when you came in and freaked over the cutlery." The vampire had always made her nervous. First, because she wasn't allowed to stake him — him being Buffy's boyfriend at the time. Then, he'd chained her up in the mansion, trying to talk her into turning away from the dark path she was headed towards after the Finch thing. Faith was pretty sure he had more redemption talks in mind.
Sandwich in hand, she went to the living room and took a seat in front of the television. She flicked through the channels, finally settling on an old episode of "Gilligan's Island." It didn't take long to work her way through the sandwich, and Faith debated whether to fix another. Angel's figure still standing in the kitchen made her decision easier, and she remained in the living room pretending to watch TV. *I should've skipped the shower*, she thought when the vampire joined her.
"So, what's your plan, Faith?"
He was using that creepy, soft voice reserved for stray dogs or crazy people. *Wonder which one I am?* The Slayer didn't answer. "You could stay here for a while."
"And do what, Angel? I don't think you've got a great need for murderers on the payroll." The words came out before she could stop them.
Angel moved to kneel in front of her. "No, I don't. But I could use a Slayer who's on the path of redemption." He took her hand. "The benefits aren't great and the work is pretty painful. However, I can promise that you won't be working alone."
The soft words brought tears to the teen's eyes. Struggling to keep her emotions in check, she replied, "How do you ever get the images to go away? Every time I close my eyes, I see Allan Finch or the professor."
"They fade, in time. But you won't ever forget. They'll always be there, reminding you just how hard you have to work to make up for your mistakes." Seeing her pull into herself, Angel continued. "You made mistakes, Faith. Accept that and move on. You can learn to live with the pain of what you did, but you can't let it rule you."
Angel's words pounded at Faith. Panicked, she jumped out of the chair, knocking the vampire over as she ran for the elevator.
"You go out that door, you'll be running for the rest of your life. My bet, it'll be a pretty short run."
"It doesn't matter," the Slayer replied, grasping the metal grating covering the elevator.
The vampire was relentless. "Where are you gonna go? Back into that darkness?" he questioned.
Faith opened her mouth to answer, but never got the chance.
"No. She's coming back to Sunnydale with me." Slayer and vampire stared in shock at the blonde standing unnoticed inside the elevator.